Ten Tiny Fingers

Written by my sister, Kara Boda Harvey

Ten tiny fingers, less than four pounds, and three days of life outside the womb. For most of the time that Molly spent inside her mama, she was busy somersaulting and kicking, as though she was determined to enjoy each day, regardless of how many she’d get to live, while simultaneously strength training for Labour Day.

When the time came, Molly did defy the odds: breathing on her own, opening her eyes to say a quick, sleepy hello, and even kicking her feet in protest. She was tiny, wrapped up to stay warm in the arms of her father and mother.

I am so proud of my sister. This year, Kylie made herself a sanctuary for Molly, becoming a home for her sacred little life. What profound courage my sister displayed as she protected and fiercely loved Molly, all the while knowing that she would have to say goodbye heart-achingly soon.

As my mind turns again and again to Molly, my lasting picture is of her held up to Kylie’s chest, with her face cradled close to her mama. Love and grief emanate from Kylie, and I see God in her: the Mother who holds us close in our brokenness, bringing our faces close to Hers so that we are washed in Her love and Her tears.

Over recent years of loss, I’ve stopped believing in a God who fixes our problems. But I do believe in a Being who walks through doorways into homes of heartache, not to whitewash or to take away the pain, but to sit beside us and weep.

I don’t understand why our world operates the way it does--nor why God does as God does. But I do believe with a ferocity bordering on rage that all is not right. And that belief brings me back to a Being who will set things right and who will wipe our tears away, washing the brokenness off this world to reveal a wholeness and peace that I long for in the depths of my soul.

Rest in the everlasting, all-encompassing, ferocious love of the Mother, little Molly Mae. I feel so much heartache in saying goodbye. One day, I want to see you do somersaults with a spicy little grin on your face. Until then, you will be deeply missed and never, never forgotten.